


Falling is the Easy Part

by crushing83



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling Angels, Fixing things, Gabriel Lives, Gabriel escapes, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin Lives, Loki - Freeform, M/M, Not sure what this will be, Possessive Gabriel, Protective Gabriel, Rating May Change, Slash, Spencer and Sam are friends, Work In Progress, i might be in over my head, saving Kevin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9246974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: After the angels fall, Spencer is pulled into a world he's only explored from the safety of its outskirts. Gabriel---or Loki, as Spencer (barely) knows him---shows up and to ensure they both stay safe (and off of Metatron's radar) they pool their resources and set off on a journey to find the people who might be able to help them open up Heaven's doors again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are a few things I haven't decided on yet (I may add Sam to the relationship, I may not; I can't decide if I should stick to canon SPN events (the Mark) or go off-script), but I'm working through it. Any suggestions or thoughts you have as I write/post this are welcome and appreciated! I'll eventually get this sorted out... but in the meantime, thanks for giving this a try!

At first, Spencer thought they were meteors---a freak shower, maybe going unnoticed by satellites and scientists, could be possible, right?---and then he thought space debris---did the international space station explode? would he have gotten a news alert about that?---and then he thought one of the blurs looked a little like a falling person when he caught sight of it in his binoculars, when it fell way too close to his cabin hideaway.

He realised what was happening, even if he didn't understand it. 

_Angels_. Angels were _falling._

Spencer tried to get in touch with the only hunters he knew, first his friend and then his friend's older brother, assuming they might know what was happening; when neither of them answered their phones, he started to worry. They had an unlucky knack for being in the middle of anything and everything pertaining to supernatural disasters. What could have caused all the angels in Heaven to fall... well, it wouldn't be good, whatever it was. And they weren't answering their phones. 

To give himself some purpose (or distraction) he decided to check in with the other people in his heart. He called his mother---which nearly set her off, until she heard their secret passphrase---and told her not to say yes to any voice she may hear. She swore up and down any voice in her head would find her incredibly uncooperative. Next, he texted his friends and coworkers, making sure they were safe in the city. Receiving texts back from everyone was reassuring, though he wished they knew the truth of what was happening. Their combined awe and excitement over the surprise meteor shower made him ache to tell them the truth. 

Spencer wouldn't have believed the truth if Sam hadn't saved him from a potentially-sticky end. If he'd met Sam on campus, in a library, and been told the truth... he would have been sure it was a prank being played on him. But, Sam had saved him from a ghost and had the sense to try to keep him in the dark. Unfortunately for Sam, Spencer had been insistent, leading Sam to eventually cave to his demand for the truth. 

Surprisingly---to Spencer, at that time---Sam went further than a mere telling of the truth. He gave Spencer the information to protect himself; salt and iron and silver became staples in Spencer's (lack of) decorating style. He kept a vase or bottle of salt in every room wherever he was living and he always made sure to choose fixtures of some sort that had iron in their construction. Silver was frequently stored around his home (and discretely on his person). And in showing Spencer how to protect himself, Sam must have seen someone worth knowing because he also made it his mission to befriend Spencer. It didn't matter that there was a (slight) age gap or that they lived on different campuses. Sam made an effort, inspiring Spencer to do the same for the first time in many years. 

After Sam left school, heading out with his brother on a mission of revenge, he kept in irregular contact. He made sure Spencer was up-to-date on most things happening in the supernatural realm, gave him new ways to protect himself as they learned, and even took a couple of cases off of Spencer's recommendation when something particularly weird was afoot. 

There were a few terrifying moments in their friendship---like when Sam told him he was going to say "yes" to Lucifer, and when his brother, Dean, warned him to stay away from Sam until he got his soul back (no matter how Sam acted or what he said, if they crossed paths)---but for the most part, they had an easy bond, not hindered by their sporadic contact and the physical distance between them... 

...unless something big was happening and Spencer had no way of getting in touch with either brother. Then, the easiness was replaced with a sense of dread, his anxiety nearing full-out panic. 

He'd felt that way during the time of the apocalypse. Sam had been so guilty and sad, desperate to do anything. Bad things were happening left and right---a whole town had been murdered in Missouri!---and every time his team had been dispatched he'd been afraid of what they'd find. He'd had nightmares within nightmares. Any time he couldn't reach Sam, his mind raced and his heart pounded. Had Sam said yes? Was he dead? Would he ever find out what had happened? 

Even after the archangels had been trapped in Hell---and that was a phrase (and event) that boggled Spencer's mind a little---it had taken a while before Dean had sent word to him. In those weeks, he'd known the end wasn't upon them all, but he hadn't known why. He'd tried calling Sam over and over---all of his numbers---and then he started on the numbers he knew belonged to Dean. After a month of worrying himself ragged and being unable to tell any of his team what was on his mind, Dean finally called. He sounded drunk and sad and Spencer had thanked him quietly for the news before letting go of his panic in a tirade of tears that had frightened his team and kept them on his case until he showed signs of improvement. 

But this wasn't archangels (and Sam) in Hell. This was (what looked like) all the angels among humans---if they survived the fall. 

Angels existed on several planes, or in multiple dimensions, from what Spencer understood. Heaven was a repository of energy, a beacon for souls, and angels were supposed to be the guardians and defenders of that power. Hell depended on the power of souls, too, but it corrupted them instead of gathering and protecting them. Spencer wondered if God returned---he remembered Sam telling him how down Dean and Castiel had been upon learning God was out there, but ignoring what the archangels were doing---to punish the angels for how things had gone on in the last few years. But... that didn't feel right. If humanity was God's creation and if he'd asked the angels to love humans as they loved him, why would God send them crashing down to Earth's surface? Was he forcing them to make nice with the humans they hadn't killed in their bid to bring Paradise upon them all? It didn't sit well with him. Angelic energy on that scale would mean nothing good for humankind. Spencer felt it was more likely that someone had done a spell or the demons had taken their fight to Heaven or something insane like that. 

Figuring out what had caused the angels to fall wasn't his primary concern. His safety, since he was pretty isolated, came first. Remembering some of the sigils Sam had taught him during the days before the apocalypse, he quickly drew them on the cabin's doors and walls and windows with markers. They would need to be painted over again before he could invite anyone to his hideaway, but since he rarely brought guests there he figured his own safety could be his primary focus for once. Angels would need vessels and he had no desire to be one. 

He didn't keep a television in the cabin but he did tune his satellite radio to his favourite news station. NASA was reportedly on alert, but had no useful knowledge. The American government was assuring its citizens that they were not being attacked, that the streaks in the sky were meteors and nothing else. News personalities warned the public against going outside to investigate any air-to-ground strikes, telling them to let the appropriate authorities handle the situations and reminding them that as long as their dwellings weren't struck that they would be safest indoors and away from the windows. 

Spencer found it unsatisfying, but the people he could contact for _actual_ information weren't taking his calls. 

Something bad was happening, and all he could do was wait it out to see what came next.


	2. Chapter 2

What came next was a phone call. 

"Sam?" he said into his cellular device, having answered it before checking the display. "Are you okay?" 

"Ah, no, smarty-pants, this is Penelope. You know, the girl who saves your technologically-deprived behind when you get cranky with your computer?" 

Spencer sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Hey, Garcia," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see who was calling before I answered it. Do I have to come in?" 

"Noooo, of course not. You took a week off---you never take a week off---and we're going to do our best to give it to you. I'm not calling for work reasons," she replied. "Do you have a few minutes, or do you need to be calling this 'Sam' person?" 

"No, they'll call when they can," Spencer mumbled as he picked himself up off of the couch and walked into the kitchen where the coffee could be made. "What's up?" 

"Did you see the meteor shower last night?" 

Spencer snorted. "I think everyone saw it last night." 

"What was it like out where you are?" 

"It was... ah... quite something," Spencer decided. "Everyone's still okay?" 

"We're fine, pumpkin." 

Spencer nodded, even though Penelope couldn't see him gesturing, and he worked as efficiently (or, really, clumsily) as he could to put the coffee into the french press and the water into his kettle. He leaned against the counter, and asked her why she was calling so early. 

"Well, that's cute. It's nine o'clock, the team's all on the plane---" 

"Why?" 

"A hostage situation. Woman barracaded in with her family." 

Spencer frowned. "Any religious symbolism?" 

"You mean, is she a church wackadoo? No, not as far as I can tell," she said. 

"Did a meteor strike down near their home?" Spencer asked. 

"Stop, stop, stop---you are supposed to be on vacation!" Penelope scolded him. "And I haven't even asked you my question yet!" 

Spencer smiled. "What question?" he murmured. 

"Can I send you some pictures?" 

"Sure. Of what?" Spencer asked. 

"Of the meteor shower, duh." 

Spencer wasn't sure how he was supposed to know that would be the subject of the photographs, but he decided to set that point aside to focus on the fact that he had no way to analyse them or know what was in them. Even if he did, he knew he couldn't tell her what was really in the photographs; Spencer wasn't completely certain, but he felt safe assuming that Garcia didn't know about the supernatural. 

Deciding to play along, to pretend, Spencer asked, "What do you think I'm going to do with them? My doctorates aren't in---"

"I know, I know, but you're our resident genius!" Penelope interrupted. "And really, I'm just looking for you to assure me that what I'm seeing is not what's actually happening." 

Spencer frowned. "What are you seeing?" he asked. 

Penelope sucked in a quick, sharp breath. The multitude of possible answers struck Spencer in that second, and the most likely answer was the one he dreaded hearing the most. He made sure he was sitting down, hoisting himself up onto the counter near the kettle so he could deal with that when it started whistling and also so if his limbs fell victim to the paralysing effect of surprise he wouldn't have to worry about falling over or knocking any furniture to the ground. 

"Garcia?" he said, when she remained silent. "What is it?"

"I... oh, hell. You're gonna tell me I'm nuts. But, anyway! I have a friend who was working on some sort of photography project," she said, speaking quickly. "You know, the kind with a long lens and a slow shutter. He was taking pictures of the sky last night. He's pretty sure it's just the way the light flares but ohmigosh, Reid, some of the shooting stars look like there were people in them! It's freaking me out and you have to tell me people weren't falling from the space station." 

Her words had Spencer hesitating to a full stop. It wasn't until the kettle screeched that he started moving again, pouring the boiling water into his french press, while he tried to decide how he'd approach the issue. 

"Reid?" 

"I... I haven't had my coffee yet," he mumbled. "As far as I know, it couldn't be people from the space station. Without getting into technical details, it's not possible.

"It's probably just as your photographer friend said," he continued, watching his coffee brew as he tried to ignore the guilt building in his gut. "Something about the angle and temperature of the light hitting his lens and aperture and... and..." 

"You think? For real?" Penelope asked. 

"Yeah," he replied. "I do."

She breathed a long sigh of what he assumed was relief. "Oh good. I thought... I thought---" 

"That some astronauts fell to their death and the government was covering it up?" he cut in. He twisted back to grab a mug from the shelf behind him as he heard her sheepish huff of laughter. "Honestly. I'm sure it's nothing. Just a freak meteor storm. If it was in the sun's shadow, we might not have picked it up via satellite, and if the debris field was small enough... it's possible." 

"Look at that! You reassured me without a lot of technical talk!" 

Spencer smiled. "I'm growing up," he joked. 

"Or you're still half-asleep." 

He snorted. "Or that." 

"Go back to sleep, lovey, be lazy and enjoy the rest of your week off," she said. "I won't be bothering you again unless absolutely necessary!" 

"Hey, Garcia?" 

"Yes, Reid?" 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Could you send me the pictures? I'd love to look at them. Maybe I could send one to a professor friend at Caltech, see what they think?" 

"Just in case?" 

"Just in case," Spencer echoed. 

"You are an angel," she murmured. 

Spencer snorted again. "Not even close. Send them to my personal e-mail, okay? I'll let you know if... anything comes of it." 

"Thanks, Spencer. Now, get your cute little butt back to bed and sleep in!" 

She hung up, leaving Spencer chuckling at no one. He set his phone on the counter and turned his attention to pouring his first cup of coffee of the day. After hopping down from his perch to grab the cream and sugar, he doctored the drink the way he preferred; that first sip of his favourite coffee made him hum in pleasure, allowed him to set aside his concerns for the world (and for Sam) and enjoy the moment. 

He made it through his first cup before he decided to start on breakfast: a bagel, slathered in chocolate-hazelnut spread. It wasn't the healthiest meal, but one of the most delicious that didn't involve a whole lot of fussing. 

After his first gooey bite, a crash outside the front door interrupted his appreciative moan. Spencer looked out the kitchen window; no vehicle was parked in his driveway. Only Hotch and Morgan knew about the location of the cabin---a purchase he made when he realised, somewhere between all the bad things that happened to him and his team, that he needed a place to go to regroup (or lick his wounds, whether they were emotional or physical)---and they would call first unless it was an emergency. A vessel-less angel would burst in, all burning light and high-frequency noise, according to something Sam told him, so it wasn't one of them. It could be an angel in a deteriorating vessel; that option was the most likely and not at all appealing. He went to the drawer in his kitchen where he kept a handgun and he walked slowly towards the front door. 

No one was standing behind the door, as far as he could tell through the curtain, but that didn't mean they weren't hiding against the exterior wall of the cabin. 

He opened the door, keeping his gun pressed against the wood, and he peeked outside. The sun was shining, there were ducks floating on the lake... 

...and there was a shivering, bleeding man, curled up on his porch. 

"I... excuse me?" Spencer asked as he stepped forward. His need to help was quickly overriding his better judgement. "Are you---"

"Hey, kiddo." 

Recognising the man's voice through its croaky tone, Spencer dropped to his knees next to him and slowly turned his body over so he could look down into the man's face. Underneath the shaggy beard and long, matted hair, was the face of the trickster he'd first encountered while consulting on a case and off by himself. 

"Loki?"


	3. Chapter 3

Loki coughed twice, wincing after each forced exhalation. Then, he groaned and tried to sit up. "In the flesh," he said. He looked around the wooded property. "Do you... are we... you alone out here?"

"Yeah," Spencer murmured. "Can you walk?" 

"Help me up," he said. "I sort of crash-landed when I zapped in as close as I could to you. Got hit by someone feathered in the process, too, but I think my legs still work." 

"What hap---" 

"Later. After we ward the place. And maybe after I look and feel less like that cat in the sandals on the bad Good Friday," Loki muttered. 

Spencer snorted, wondering about the comparison Loki drew between himself and Jesus (but still finding humour in it, given Loki's ragged and bearded appearance), but he could compartmentalize enough to get him through the most immediate of problems. Loki was about as much of a friend as he could consider a just-about-all-powerful being with a serious kink for teaching deadly lessons. He was hurt and... in disguise? Obviously, he was in trouble, and that needed to be dealt with before any of his questions could be asked---or answered. 

"I already warded against angels last night," Spencer said. "Is there anything else? Do I have to worry about an angry god on your tail? Or a hunter?" 

"We need some extra precautions, yeah," Loki replied. His brow wrinkled. "How'd you know the right symbols to block angels?" 

"Hunter friends," he said, not sure if Sam had crossed paths with Loki before (and not sure if mentioning him by name would make their situation better or worse). 

Instead of saying anything else, Spencer offered him an arm; Loki clapped his hand on that arm and Spencer mirrored his grip while bracing himself against the porch railing. Together, with only a few pauses, they managed to get Loki standing and moving into the cabin before helping him sit on the coffee table in the main room. 

"We'll clean you up first, do some first aid, and then---" 

"No," Loki said, his voice much firmer than it had been earlier. "Metatron's looking for me. You need to draw sigils to hide me from him first, or else we're gonna be in the bad kind of trouble." 

Spencer nodded. His list of questions was growing. Metatron's allegience and whatever sort of creature he was---angel, god, demon---were at the top of his list. Whoever Metatron was, he seemed to be a threat to Loki and Loki was pretty powerful. Protecting themselves against him was their first priority, and those (pesky, inquisitive) questions would have to wait a little longer. 

"Can you draw the sigils on a piece of paper? And tell me where to put them?" he asked the trickster. 

Loki nodded. Spencer gave him a notebook and a pencil; he drew each one clearly, and then he told Spencer where to place them. 

"What are these for?" Spencer asked as he worked. 

"They're to block out anyone with god-like power," Loki said quietly. "Metatron's just an angel, but he's powered up on a tablet of information God---capital Gee god, mind---dictated to him eons ago. I don't think Holy Fire'll work on him anymore, so I whipped those up to cover all our bases. The ones that look like words... those should keep us safe from a few of my pagan friends I'd like to avoid seeing for a while." 

"Will you be okay if I go add these to the other rooms?" 

At Loki's nod, Spencer rushed into the kitchen and drew the symbols on his walls and windows. If any of his team came to visit, he'd have some serious explaining to do; but the immediate future was his primary concern. He worked as quickly as he could, going from room to room, and once he was sure the place was as safe as it could be, he grabbed the first aid kit and a few cloths from the bathroom and went to Loki's side. 

"First, let's clean up the damage, okay?" Spencer suggested. "I'm going to get a bowl of warm water. Just one minute." 

"Kid, calm down. We're as safe as we can be, which is saying something given the craptastic weather last night," Loki said. 

As he turned back into his kitchen, Spencer waved at him with his hand. He heard Loki chuckle as he rummaged in the cupboards for a couple of plastic bowls. 

Loki's visible wounds were already healing; Spencer could see that much when he returned and started washing away the blood. He felt a little relief at that, and the tension (and fear) was giving way to curiosity. He cleared his throat and looked up at Loki, who was already smirking a little like he used to do. 

"Go ahead, ask," Loki said quietly. 

"Alright. What happened?" 

"Starting with the big one, huh?" Loki asked, chuckling a little until an ache made him wince. "Well, Metatron... kicked the kids out of the castle, more or less, and the energy in that spell... he used it to yank me back. He wanted me on his side. I escaped." 

Spencer froze. "Back?" 

"I... uh, yeah. Well, I died standing up to Lucifer, back in the good ol' apocalypse days," Loki said, his voice quiet. 

"Oh," Spencer whispered, "I... I didn't know." 

"I didn't really expect those knuckleheads to post my obit," Loki said quietly. "Is this where I apologise now?" 

"For... what?" 

"For dying without letting you know?" 

Spencer smiled, amused by Loki's belief that he felt like he should apologise and touched by Loki including him like that even if it was after the fact. "I didn't think gods apologised," he said. 

"They don't, generally speaking," Loki muttered. He swatted Spencer's hand away when it tried to inspect under his shirt, and took a cloth from him to clean his side. "I didn't exactly have a 'notify in case of death' list and---" he inhaled sharply, prompting Spencer to tug the shirt up and the cloth from Loki's hand. He saw the edge of a burn and continued pushing up Loki's shirt until he'd exposed the whole thing. "Shit, kiddo, stop---" 

"This needs to be treated," Spencer said. He reached for the safety shears and started removing Loki's shirt in pieces; Loki complained but a stern look from Spencer put a stop to that. "Your body still has some human genetic material in it, right? Then it develops infections the way we do. It costs you energy to heal yourself, and right now, you need all your energy on defense." 

"When did you get to be so smart?" 

"In the womb," Spencer replied. 

Loki snorted. He winced and hissed with every poke and slide of Spencer's fingers, but it wasn't until Spencer had the burned area coated in ointment and wrapped in gauze that he relaxed and fell silent. Spencer put a bit of tape over the edges, ensuring that the wrap would stay in place, and then he took one of Loki's hands in his own and started cleaning the remaining scrapes he found there. 

"I have some ice cream, and maybe some gummy worms or hard candies, but there isn't much here in the way of candy," he said. "I could run into town---" 

"No," Loki interrupted. "They could be looking for me." 

"And you think I'll wave over a few rogue angels and tell them I've got you here?" Spencer asked. 

"I put a mark on you. The last time we crossed paths," Loki said, seeming about as unapologetic as Spencer expected he'd be. "On that child abductor case. I... he had a habit of killing curious adults and you were canvassing with that idiot detective and---" 

Spencer cut in quickly, not wanting to discuss the details of such an awful, messy case. "I remember," he said, while silently reminding him of its only redeeming quality. They'd saved the last little boy grabbed from a local playground; the killer had left a trail of bodies and desolation in his wake, but they'd saved that boy and returned him to his parents. "How did you mark me?" 

"A brand of sorts. On your ribs," Loki replied. "Nothing big, just a small line of script with a bit of my mojo attached. Angels and demons and gods would recognise you as under my protection, or at least 'off-limits' if they didn't understand the markings." 

"Hmm. I didn't notice you doing that." 

Loki smirked. "I've got mad skills." 

Spencer snorted. "And you're so modest, too," he muttered under his breath. He finished with one hand and moved onto the other. "You hit an angel?" he asked quietly. "Do they have roadrash, too?" 

"No," Loki said quietly, more solemnly than he'd heard the deity speak before. 

Spencer wondered if it was the sound of grief in his voice---and then he wondered why Loki would be grieving over killing an angel, especially by accident---but before he could ask one of those questions he looked into Loki's face and was struck by how sad he looked. His curiosity must have shown on his face, because in the next moment, Loki was smirking and waggling his eyebrows. Spencer braced himself for the innuendo. 

"You know, I might have scraped some more _delicate_ places, if you feel up to playing doctor," Loki said. 

Without rolling his eyes (which was a minor miracle, really), Spencer said, "Are you hurt or are you just screwing with me?" 

"Screwing. Just a little bit," Loki said as he stood up from the coffee table. He wavered, causing Spencer to reach out and put his hands on the deity's hips. After settling and finding his balance again, Loki grinned. "But if you wanna hold me close, pretty Penny, I won't say no." 

He groaned. Not _that_ nickname. That nickname made him feel as if he were a little girl having her pigtails tugged on by the cute boy in her neighbourhood---not that that was what was happening, not that Loki was cute ( _nope_ , not going there), but because all he meant by that thought was that the nickname painted a picture different than their own. Even Kiddo was better than (pretty) Penny, in his mind. His opinion wouldn't stop Loki from calling him whatever he wanted to call him. On better days, he could be called anything from Gumdrop to Sunshine, depending on the trickster's mood. But, on that day, in that moment, Loki seemed content to pluck at Spencer's already-frayed nerves and there didn't seem to be anything Spencer could do about it. 

"I forgot that name bugs you," Loki said, grinning at him through his beard. 

Spencer snorted. "No, you didn't." 

"No, I didn't," he conceded. He snorted and started to move away from Spencer. As Loki studied the painted sigils and warding scripts, his body relaxed; by the time he came back from the kitchen (with what was left of Spencer's chocolatey breakfast), he was smiling even though his eyes and brow were still a little pinched. "Looks good, Penny. We'll be safe for a bit." 

On his way back to the sofa, Loki wavered. Spencer reached out, catching his upper arm from underneath and allowing Loki to catch hold of Spencer's arm in return. 

"Easy," Spencer murmured. "You need to rest and recover." 

"Yeah, yeah. You got any weapons here?" Loki asked. 

Spencer shrugged. "A couple guns. Some knives---and a couple made with silver and iron. Salt." 

Loki nodded. 

"Not useful, right?" 

"When I get more of my mojo back, I might be able to make those knives useful," Loki said. "For now, we'll just have to find another way to pass the time." 

Spencer, knowing Loki well enough, didn't suggest anything. He knew any suggestion he made would be warped into something flirtatious or ridiculous. When Loki smirked and bounced his eyebrows up and down, Spencer knew his silence wouldn't change anything. Loki would suggest whatever he thought would get the biggest reaction, no matter what Spencer said or did. 

"Not gonna happen," Spencer said, voice calm and quiet. 

Loki replied with laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

They spent remainder of the day alternating between reading, resting, and talking. While Loki was a god, or god-like being at least, he'd been injured in his angellic collision and whatever Metatron had done to him; Spencer was pleased to see him lounging and allowing his body to heal but he wasn't pleased that resting meant Loki kept trying to entertain himself in other ways. 

As they talked---about his team, that muscle-bound guard dog (Loki's description of Morgan) that had been following Spencer around the last time they crossed paths, and (surprisingly, to Spencer) about his mother---Spencer found himself thinking back to the first time he'd met Loki. 

He'd been on a case with Gideon and Morgan, the full team divided over a couple of consultations. He'd been at the precinct, lost in his geographical data, when one of the janitors came into the conference room and offered to clear away some of the food wrappers and coffee cups the three of them and the detectives had left over the desk. 

Spencer and Gabriel Bailey, Loki's alias at the time, had shared quiet conversation while they did their respective jobs. Spencer might have never given Mister Bailey another thought, but when he realised where the unknown subject was likely to be found he also realised that something his visitor had said had given away his true intentions. 

There had been no more assaults for Spencer to use in developing his map. Their unknown subject---when he became less unknown and more a man by the name of Mike Rudd, recently forced to resign from his relatively-high position at a local public relations firm when he was publicly outed for sharing his (awful) opinion about some of his clients at a gathering of like- and close-minded people---disappeared without a trace later that day. 

And Spencer had wondered. 

When he'd left the precinct, to go look at Mike Rudd's condo while it was being combed by the locals, to see if the smell of sulfur was in the air (or if there was a hex bag hidden somewhere), the janitor was waiting for him in the parking lot. 

"He's gone, kiddo," Gabriel Bailey had said. When Spencer had asked if he killed their suspect, the janitor smirked and said, "Nope. He did it to himself." 

A gleam of something not-quite-human was in the man's eyes. Sam often told him to trust his instincts---if someone seemed supernatural, they probably were. When Spencer (perhaps stupidly, given the fact that they were alone in a dark parking lot) asked who and what he was, Gabriel Bailey became Loki, and that was the start of their strange, tumultuous relationship. 

Looking up tricksters didn't give him a lot of information, and talking with Sam about them gave him little more (in between the heavy pauses and quiet curses and firm warnings), but between those sources and his (continued but unplanned---on his side, at least) encounters with Loki he was able to compose a picture. A well-put-together (and that was as far as he was taking it), snarky, defensive, protective, vicious picture. 

But that picture was completely different to the sight in his cabin. 

When they fell silent, or when Spencer stepped out of the room to take (or make) a phone call and check the wooded area through the windows, Loki's face changed. Something heavier than the desire for justice (vengeance) had settled in his eyes; it was more akin to grief and guilt than anything else, and Spencer didn't like it. 

"Stop it," Loki muttered. 

"Stop what?" Spencer asked, coming back into the sitting area from the kitchen. 

"Thinking so loudly." 

Spencer smiled. "Plug your ears then." 

Loki glared, but there was no _real_ heat in his expression. "Doesn't work that way, pretty Penny." 

"Ugh. Loki..." 

"Nope. Never gonna stop." 

Spencer's smile returned before he could control it. "We're gonna need food soon. Unless you'll eat bran cereal and yogurt," he said. 

"Banana yogurt?" Loki asked. 

"Plain. But there's honey in the pantry..." 

Spencer stopped talking, letting his offer of sweetness fade into silence, when he saw Loki's expression morph from the one of dark moods to one of sophmoric and pornographic humour. 

"Honey in your pants?" Loki asked. "Why, yes, judging by that sweet ass, I bet there is." 

"I'm letting you have that one because you're injured," Spencer said. "If you weren't so frail right now, I'd be disappointed." 

"Frail?!"

Spencer tried not to smile (and failed) as he reached for a book. "You heard me," he said, ducking behind the pages of what he learned was Tolkien's _The Silmarillion_. "Your hearing isn't gone yet." 

"When I get powered up again, you better watch it," Loki muttered. 

With a mild hum that could have been a response of disbelief or agreement, Spencer scanned the open pages in front of him. 

_His wrath and his hate were given most to Morgoth, and yet well nigh all that he said came from the very lies of Morgoth himself; but he was distraught with grief for the slaying of his father, and with anguish for the rape of the Silmarils. He claimed now the kingship of all the Noldor, since Finwë was dead, and he scorned the decrees of the Valar._

Something about those few lines stuck with him, but he wasn't sure what it was about the words that made him hesitate. Certainly, the Noldor's plight was awful, but Spencer always thought it could have been avoided if cooler minds prevailed---among both the Valar and the Elves. 

His usual reading speed was lost to thought; he stared at the words, the arguments thought by Fëanor, and kept wondering if Metatron, angel-with-god-power (apparently), had rallied followers or if he were acting alone. He started worrying that the results of Heaven closing would be as bloody as the kinslayings. 

"Stop." 

Spencer snapped his eyes away from the book just as Loki's hand clamped down on one side of it. He started to protest, but the words died on his lips at the sight of his guest's stern gaze; he was ninety percent sure Loki wouldn't hurt him, but he didn't think it would be wise to unnecessarily antagonize a trickster. 

"No Tolkien," Loki said, as he tugged the book free from Spencer's grip. "Especially not this book." 

"Why not?" 

Loki put the book on the coffee table and moved so he was sitting closer instead of leaning over the cushion between them. "You drastically slowed down and started thinking loud, depressing-as-fuck thoughts," he said. "And while I try not to listen, right now my control's shot. So, if you're going to think loud thoughts, make 'em cute or sexy. Or cute _and_ sexy. Even better." 

Even though he knew it could get him into trouble later, Spencer's mischievous streak couldn't be denied. His twisted-and-weird, too-serious-but-too-playful-too relationship with the Norse trickster demanded he take a shot. 

So, he put his mind to the task of imagining Loki lounging on a bed covered in rose petals and chocolate kisses, wearing silk boxers, and holding a fluffy, drowsy, cuddly puppy up to his bare chest as candlelight flickered over and around them. Once the image was solid in his mind, he concentrated on mentally shouting it to his unexpected guest. 

Loki grinned. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he said. He closed his eyes and settled back into the cushions. "Mmmm... not bad, kiddo. Just gonna make a few tweaks before sending it back..." 

Spencer braced himself mentally (and a little physically, because one never knew what could happen when Loki was involved), but nothing could have prepared him for the sight Loki planted in his mind. 

He was on the same bed, stretched out on his side with nothing but part of a sheet to cover the line of his hip. His spindly legs were tangled with another set of long male legs; as he followed the legs up, the long line of body was covered by Loki. Completely naked and unashamed (more like proud) and straddling the man with the long (and muscular) legs, Loki was stretching his arms above his head and rolling his hips slowly. 

After catching sight of an anti-possession tattoo under _his_ fingers, as they gently drummed against the third man's chest, Spencer glimpsed a dimpled cheek he hadn't seen in a long time. 

Loki knew Sam? 

Loki wanted Sam? Of course he did. 

What was Spencer doing there, then? 

Loki didn't know Spencer knew Sam. Or did he? 

Spencer didn't share any of his immediate thoughts. Instead, he slammed his mental shields shut (or he hoped he slammed them shut, anyway) and turned his attention back to Loki. Then he said, "I'm disappointed. There weren't any puppies." 

Loki's sharp smirk wasn't tempered by the beard on his face. "There were two big puppies on the bed. You missed 'em?" 

"I must have," Spencer said with a little shrug. 

"Seriously, kid?" Loki said, turning his whole body so he was facing Spencer. "Those eyes you got are lethal weapons. Remember that time we crossed paths in Springfield?" 

"Winsconsin or Ohio?" 

Loki snorted. "Either of them, really," he admitted. "When a hunter finds out they've got a monster in front of them, they usually get angry, psycho-ed up... or disappointed. But, you, your eyes got huge, pleading-like, and you kept asking who I was. What I was." 

"I'm not a hunter," Spencer reminded him. 

"And the next time, the next Springfield---I had a thing for Springfields for a while, there are so many of them, you humans are crazy---you kept trying to win me over, to get me to help you catch the guy," Loki said, continuing as if he hadn't heard Spencer talk. "And both times, those eyes, they'd be like a punch to the heart, pretty Penny, if I had one that worked." 

Spencer rolled his eyes. "You're not a lost cause," he said, his voice quiet. "I think you do have a heart. And it works." 

"Well..." 

"Maybe not a physiological one. A metaphorical one, for sure," Spencer added. "You forget, I've seen you in the middle of cases involving children. You were with me when that---" 

Loki put a hand over Spencer's mouth. "Let's go back to cute and sexy," he said. He trailed his hand down Spencer's body until it settled around the curve of his hip. "And you, are both." 

"Who's the other guy?" Spencer asked. He hoped he sounded casual---or jealously trying to sound casual---but he couldn't make himself look at Loki to see if his strategy worked. "Hmm?" 

Loki chuckled. "You suck at poker." 

"I am excellent at poker," Spencer insisted. 

"Not sexytimes poker." 

"That's not a real thing," Spencer said. 

Loki snorted, but he didn't say anything right away; he watched Spencer as he tried to think of anything but sex and anyone but Loki and Sam. The idea of the two of them together, however, was pleasing to his mind's eye. He was sure he was committing some act of friendship betrayal, though, picturing a friend in bed with someone; and he was also sure he was a little jealous, because when Loki flirted with him he felt like the only one on Loki's radar but obviously Loki had other interests and tastes. 

"The Winchesters are your hunter friends," Loki said, after a few minutes of silence. 

"I don't know who you're talking about," Spencer responded. 

Loki snorted again. "Can't kid a kidder, kiddo," he said. He shifted until he could rest his head on Spencer's shoulder. "Have you talked to them since last night?" 

"They aren't answering their phones," Spencer mumbled. 

"Crap. So they're involved somehow." 

"Or dealing with the fallout," Spencer agreed. "Either scenario is likely, given their tendency to attract trouble." 

Loki grinned. "Takes one to know one," he said in a teasing tone of voice. When Spencer started to protest, Loki talked over him. "There's a reason your guard dog of a teammate keeps you close. Besides your good looks, I mean." 

"I can take care of myself," Spencer grumbled. 

"No judgements here. Remember, I ended up on the end of Luci's sword trying to save those two asshats and an old friend," Loki reminded him. "I'm not exactly looking forward to tracking them down and pitching in on whatever drama they've stirred up." 

Spencer felt rather daring as he reached out and touched Loki's arm. He almost pulled away again, quickly before his hand could settle into the curve and meat of the trickster's arm, but a little sparkle in Loki's eye convinced him to linger. 

"It might not be their fault." 

"It was a spell. Metatron cast it, sure, but they could be involved," Loki said. 

"Why would they want to kick angels out of Heaven?" Spencer asked. "What good would that do for them?" 

"Who knows? Metatron isn't exactly the easiest to deal with," Loki said. He sighed and shrugged. "Honestly? I think it was Metadouche acting alone. He's got a grudge against Heaven and God he thinks needs settling. But I'm sure those two knuckleheads are involved now." 

They fell into a comfortable silence. Spencer didn't know what was occupying Loki's thoughts, but his were focused on Sam (and Dean) and what they were facing. 

When Loki yawned---and then blinked, looking surprised at himself---Spencer grinned. He reined in the impulse to start asking more questions. He wanted to know what Sam hadn't told him about Loki. He wanted to know what Loki knew of Metatron and how to open Heaven again. But, if Loki was yawning, he was _tired_ \---he was still healing, after all---and Spencer didn't want to push him past his limits. His survival in a sticky situation (if they, heaven forbid _ha ha_ , landed in one) would depend on Loki's strength; so instead of asking the questions he wanted to ask, he squeezed Loki's arm and started moving to stand. 

"I'll go change the bed," he said. 

Loki frowned. "Why?" 

"So you have clean sheets," Spencer said. 

"You so sweet to all the pagan gods who show up at your secret getaway, all bleeding and damaged?" 

Spencer nodded. "Yes." 

Loki's chuckles followed him as he moved from the main space to the small bedroom. It wasn't until Spencer was spreading out the thick duvet he liked to wrap around his body when he was feeling particularly sad or angry (or both) at the world that Loki made an appearance in the room; he leaned against the door and watched as Spencer smoothed out the covers. 

"You gonna join me?" Loki asked. 

Shaking his head slightly, Spencer said, "I'll sleep on the couch." 

"And what's gonna stop me from carrying you to bed when you fall asleep?" 

"Respecting my choice and remembering you don't have my consent to do that," Spencer replied. Catching sight of Loki's frown, he smiled a little and said, "I've slept out there a lot. It's comfy. Besides, I sort of have a personal rule not to get too close to friends---and gods." 

"You like to snuggle a little too much?" Loki asked. 

Memories of loss, the conversations he would never have again, made it feel as if his heart were clenching in his chest. Spencer shook his head as he took a step back; Maeve was gone, he knew, and he'd been healing. Beyond that heartache, though, there was the realisation that he'd lost Loki once and hadn't known it until he almost lost him again. They'd never been _close_ , but they had a rapport that Spencer rarely (if ever) felt with anyone. The idea of letting himself get that close, of pushing past his discomfort with closeness, only to lose Loki, too, wasn't sitting well with him. 

Loki's grip on his arm tethered him back to the present moment and kept his mind from drifting too far away. "Hey, what is it?"

Spencer shook his head. "Nothing." 

"Looks like something," Loki commented. "Stuff happened to you, too?" 

"Stuff happened," Spencer agreed. 

"You sure you don't want to stay?" Loki asked. "I make a great cuddle monster." 

Spencer smiled, feeling the chill of grief and fear slipping away at the sight of Loki's boastful smirk. He nodded and smiled more when Loki squeezed his arm; while contact with others was something he rarely invited, there was something grounding in the way Loki touched him. 

"I'll be out there if you need anything," Spencer said, nodding again. "Make yourself at home." 

"You don't wanna say that, kid," Loki said, his smirk stretching to a grin. 

"Yes, I do," Spencer said. He took a step away, slipping through Loki's hold. "But, if you decide to cook breakfast naked, at least wear an apron." 

Loki snorted. "Safety first?" 

"Precisely," Spencer agreed, before waving and leaving the bedroom. 

It took him a while to settle down, but eventually Spencer made up a temporary bed on the sofa that was better than the impromptu one he'd taken the previous night, complete with real pillows and blankets and he stretched out with a book in his hands. 

The sound of Loki snoring on the other side of the cabin made him smile (and laugh a little, but he'd never admit to that). Eventually, that rhythm lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand this is the end of the chunk I'd written mostly all-at-once. I promise I'll get around to writing more soon, it's just gonna take some time to get another chunk outta my head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's taken me so long to update this story! I'm struggling, and it's taking a toll on my enjoyment of... almost everything. 
> 
> This chapter feels rougher than I'd like, but I don't want to hang onto it any longer. I hope it's not a disappointment, and that you're able to find something redeemable in the next addition to this story *fings crossed*

"You're really going to eat the hot fudge like that?" Spencer asked, trying to decide if he was grossed out or impressed by Loki's decision to drink the heated-up sauce out of the bottle. "Doesn't it burn?" 

"Plenty-powerful being here," Loki said with a gesture towards his body. He adjusted his cross-legged perch on top of the kitchen counter. "Hot fudge burns are for wimps." 

"Fine, fine," Spencer said as he sipped his coffee and turned his attention to the laptop on the table. "Nothing _too_ weird in the news. No talk about angels. Just meteors. No strange deaths. Yet." 

Loki nodded. After swallowing another squeeze of fudge sauce, he said, "I need to get in touch with Thing One and Thing Two." 

"I've tried calling the numbers of theirs that I have," Spencer said. "No answer." 

He nodded again. "Probably should do this face-to-face, anyway," he said. "I wish I had all my powers back," he added, letting his head tip back against the dish cabinets. "I'd feel better, knowing I could snap us up a weapon, or some sort of protection, if things go fubar on us." 

"Won't that call attention to you?" Spencer asked. 

Loki shrugged. "If Metatron finds me, it'll be too late to worry about that." 

Spencer conceded that point with a tilt of his head. He drank from his mug, enjoying the creamy, sugary confection he called coffee, and he tuned out Loki's hums of pleasure as he ingested more of the chocolate goo. There were several things he wanted to do---power up Loki, somehow, and get him feeling more like himself, talk to Sam, and get somewhere safer than a haphazardly-warded cabin in the middle of nowhere---but he wasn't used to these sorts of catastrophes so he didn't have the experience Sam had in reacting after something huge happened. In his retelling of some of their more adventurous hunts, Sam left out the careful planning---or it never happened, because his reactions were instinct. Spencer did not have those instincts and he was not a hunter. 

"We need a plan," Spencer said quietly as he stared out the window, catching sight of the sun's progress in rising for the day. "Figure out what's the most important and go from there." 

"What are you thinking?" Loki asked. 

"Is there a way for you to power up without tipping everyone off?" Spencer asked. 

Loki's eyes narrowed at him, from over the plastic bottle of fudge sauce. "What do you mean?" 

"Like... do you need to feed?" Spencer asked. "Or is it the act of a ritual sacrifice that boosts you back up? Something like that?" 

"Why?" Loki asked in reply. 

Spencer shrugged. "I don't mind driving to wherever Sam is," he said, completely abandoning the pretense he was trying to maintain, "but if we're going to step outside while angels are circling for vessels and doing God knows what else, I'd like to know if we're discovered... you'll be able to defend yourself." 

"What about you?" 

"While I'd like to not die any time soon, one FBI agent isn't going to make a difference if the world's ending again," Spencer said, avoiding Loki's eyes as he continued to skim the news. He wanted a newspaper, actual pages to turn, but no publication delivered to where his cabin was located; at least he could skim multiple sites by using his computer. "You might be able to help Sam and Dean put the angels back in Heaven. That'd be huge." 

Loki tilted his head. He didn't say anything immediately; Spencer expected him to refuse to work along side the brothers or to say there was nothing he could do to fix things, but he remained silent and watchful of Spencer. For a moment, Spencer felt as if he were in trouble---or being examined, somehow, from a distance---but then Loki let loose a bark of laughter and shook his head. 

"Wow, do I have my work cut out for me," Loki muttered as he scratched his beard-covered chin. "Ugh. I wanna shave." 

"Why don't you?"

"Disguise," Loki replied. "In case one of my pagan friends crosses my path. Might give me a headstart to escaping if they don't see _me_ right away." He frowned. "Then again, Luci didn't leave many of them left, so maybe I'm worrying for nothing." 

Spencer wondered---not for the first time---why a trickster would refer to one of the archangels as "Luci," but he kept the thought to himself. Maybe they'd all been friends at one point; maybe mentioning it would bother Loki. Instead, he tried a couple of internet searches about tricksters and gods and demigods, trying to find information about the source of their power. After skimming twenty or so tabs, he decided the internet was useless, and he started asking Loki questions. 

Loki evaded _all_ of them. 

Even after breakfast, after they'd watched a movie (or after Loki watched a movie while Spencer slowly---for him---read two books), any question Spencer asked was met with a raised eyebrow or a shake of the head or another (and sometimes sillier) question. Spencer found himself giving away more information about the last few years but not getting much in return. 

When Spencer finished telling him about some of the losses in his life between then and the last time they'd met, he felt more frazzled and frustrated than sad. He knew being dead was a perfectly good excuse for not having stories to tell; but, questions about angels and his own abilities, asked so Spencer could try to figure out what to do next, weren't being answered either. 

"Why won't you tell me anything useful?" Spencer asked, setting his fifth book of the day in his lap. "Or about you? I know you like sugar, I know you strongly dislike---" 

"Hate." 

"---people who abuse animals and children, I know something happened between you and Sam and Dean because you call them 'knuckleheads' and 'asshats' often enough, and you're feeling bad about something else," Spencer continued talking. "But, you're not telling me anything that would actually help." 

Loki glared in his direction. "Fine. What do you wanna know?" 

"What happened with Sam and Dean?" Spencer asked. 

Loki's gaze hardened on Spencer for a minute---a minute where Spencer wondered if he'd pushed too hard, too fast---but then he looked away and whatever fight was left seemed to melt away. 

"I died saving them. And Kali. But mostly them," Loki admitted. 

"Lucifer?" 

"Yeah. I thought... I thought they should just give in, say 'yes,' end the planet and let the feud..." Loki trailed off and waved a hand around. "Y'know." 

Spencer smiled a little. "They changed your mind." 

"They ended up in a trap. A trap set by Kali, Mercury, and a few others," Loki explained. "That was bad enough---but if Mike or Luci showed up to get them out of that? Or worse, to punish the others for thinking they were allowed to be involved?" 

"Bad?" 

"I wanted to diffuse the situation, get my old buddies outta there, knock some sense into Heckle and Jeckle, and vamoose," Loki said. "I didn't want to see them turned into greasy smears of blood and bone. I didn't want to---" 

"So... you showed up and got involved," Spencer said when Loki stopped suddenly and ran a hand over his mouth and beard, in an attempt to prompt him for more information. 

"I only managed to get Kali out of there," Loki muttered. "Well, Kali and Sam and Dean. Well, they got her _out_ , I just stood between them and Lucifer." 

"Still good work," Spencer murmured. 

Loki rolled his eyes. "I got myself killed." 

"Saving others. Some people might say that's honourable." 

"Some people might be idiots," Loki said, turning away and crossing his arms. "He didn't even... he..." 

When Loki trailed off and shook his head, Spencer dared to reach out and squeeze his shoulder. He remained silent, though, not wanting to interrupt whatever process had convinced Loki to start talking. He waited and hoped for more---and Loki didn't disappoint him. 

"Death told me if I got the message to them about the keys to the cage, the plan that _might_ stop everything, he'd look after me as best as he could if the worst happened," Loki said in a softer voice. "I didn't really care what that meant. I don't have a soul. I fed on the energy of souls---their power---sure, for centuries, but I don't have one of my own. Whatever Death had planned... wasn't going to affect me. Not really. I can't go to Hell. I can't even go to Purgatory. So the pain of having someone I love kill me... I wouldn't hafta deal with it. I didn't realise he was putting my pieces in a box for Metatron to reassemble." 

"You and Lucifer?" Spencer asked. "Together?" 

Loki frowned. "Not like that. More like... brothers. He taught me a lot." 

"And... Death?" 

"Yeah. The big kahuna himself." 

Spencer smiled. "What's he like?" 

"Kinda like my father, but more serious. And yet... not. Killer sense of humour at the right moments. He's always eating. He loves food," Loki said, his frown fading away. "Used to visit him, when I was younger, when he was in town---and by town, I mean on the planet---even though no one thought it was a good idea. Sometimes he's way too serious. Having one of the longest views ever will do that to a guy. But, he's quiet. Peaceful." 

"I can't imagine..." Spencer said, letting his head tilt to the side, leaning against the back of the sofa as he slouched. "The perspective you have on the world. The things you've seen. You hang out with Death. I have so many questions, I can't---" 

"Okay, shuddup, Nerd." 

"But, it's incredible." As a thought struck him, he sat up straight and turned completely to face Loki. "The poems about Death in the fourteenth and fifteenth---" 

"And eighteenth," Loki interrupted. "You people talk about Death a lot." 

"Like 'The Great Messenger of Mortality or A Dialogue Betwixt Death and a Lady,'" Spencer continued, undeterred by Loki's commentary. "Was that about the _actual_ Death?" 

"I don't know. You'll have to ask him, if you ever see him---a very long time from now, you got me?" Loki said, his solemn golden eyes focused on Spencer, only moving away again when Spencer nodded. 

Spencer remained quiet, processing everything Loki had told him in the last few minutes. The information about his relationship with Lucifer was important---obviously, since he still seemed fairly upset about everything that had happened around the time of the apocalypse---but Spencer wasn't sure if it was relevant to their current situation. The information about Death was interesting, but apart from the bit about Loki not having a soul, there wasn't anything in Loki's tale-telling that was helpful _right now_. 

"If Death put you somewhere safe---what would have brought you back?" Spencer asked. 

"Power." 

Spencer nodded. "Like... the energy product of expelling the angels from Heaven." 

"Correctamundo." 

"So... is that the sort of energy you need to power-up, too?" Spencer asked. 

Loki shook his head. "Y'know how I got to be Loki?" he asked. "I mean, not the name... not the being. But the legend?" 

"Tell me," Spencer insisted. 

He curled up into a comfortable position as he drew his full attention to Loki; when he decided to stick around long enough to tell a story, Spencer never regretted it, and he had a feeling he was about to learn something important. 

"Demons, gods... hell, angels, too, to an extent, yeah, we all get our power from souls," Loki explained. "There's power in a true---or desperate, to be honest---sacrifice. Everything's energy. Energy from the soul in prayer still counts, but what I could get from a sacrifice..." 

"Sexual?" Spencer asked. 

"Sure, if it's on offer," Loki replied. He grinned, more lazily than shark-like, and waggled his eyebrows. "There have been some fine virgins on my altar. I should tell you about the time this group of worshippers---" 

"Gave you all their virgins?" Spencer interrupted. 

"Only three," Loki said. His grin shrunk to a smug smirk. "That time. Man, the things I taught them... and the things I didn't need to teach them..." 

"Let's move along," Spencer suggested, motioning with his hand. 

Loki chuckled. "Fine. The power of prayer sustains a deity, but the real kapow is the sacrifice. In willingly offering up a piece of themselves, the yearning in their souls, worshippers fuel their god." 

"What about..." Spencer trailed off and winced. "Well, there are reports of gods eating people." 

Loki winced, too. "That isn't my bag," he said. "Sweets taste much better." 

"Good to know." 

"Some of them do it for the show, the macho spectacle of it... some prey on the sacrifice of it," Loki explained. "And yeah, there's some power in it. But it never seemed worth it to me. It's... cheap." 

Spencer felt his nose scrunch up as he contemplated Loki's words. "How so?" he asked. 

"I've got powers. Killing some poor schmuck to eat him, absorb some more power, and scare a bunch of people in the process? Where's the prowess in that?" Loki said. He shrugged before smiling. "But, building a reputation... having followers call on me to bravely---or stupidly---offer up something? Whether it's for selfish or selfless reasons, it's still a much more satisfying feeding." 

"Is that what you need to heal now?" Spencer asked. "Should I---" 

Loki shook his head and spoke quickly, before Spencer could finish his question. "No, no, nope. You will not be sacrificing anything up to me," he said. "I swore you'd never do that." 

"I know, but---" 

"Penny, no." 

After a sigh, Spencer turned his focus from the offer of a sacrifice to other possibilities that information could illuminate. He pondered about the power of a soul, combining what he already knew and what little Loki had told him. Stealing souls was out---Spencer knew the dangers of people walking about souless and he wouldn't put anyone through that, not after what he knew from Sam's and Dean's adventures in the field---but he wondered if they could be borrowed. 

Or touched. 

Surely, siphoning energy from a soul would provide a bit more power than prayer, than waiting. 

When Spencer asked Loki about that idea, Loki didn't say anything but his face fell, shadowed by... what looked like worry. 

"So it's possible," Spencer said. At Loki's nod, Spencer nodded, too. He smiled, feeling hopeful over having a direction in which to move. "Alright. Let's do it." 

"Whoa-ho-hoooooh-no." 

Loki's response surprised Spencer. He sat up, moving closer in curiosity, and asked, "Why not?" 

"It... it hurts, kid. I'd have my hands in everything that makes you... you." 

"Pain isn't something I'm unfamiliar with," Spencer said. "And this would be for a good cause." 

With a frown on his face, Loki looked up. "I could shatter you," he said, voice quiet. "I could hold on too tightly or---well, it's like putting my hand in a nuclear reactor. I could do serious damage." 

"But it would help you," Spencer said. "And I trust you not to... explode me." 

"Why?" 

"Because." 

Loki snorted. "That's not an answer." 

Spencer smiled a bit, hoping he was encouraging Loki to take his offer. "You could have killed me. That first time we met, in the parking lot... no one was around. It was dark. You could have snapped your fingers and disappeared me---or worse---and no one would have known what happened to me," he said. "Instead, you told me more or less the truth. And you've helped me on cases, in your own way. You protected me. You marked me, I'm assuming for protection and not to brand me as your possession. I've been learning to trust my instincts more, and in doing that... I trust you." 

"Idiot," Loki said, though the insult was lost to the way his mouth curved under his beard. "I could just be luring you into a false sense of security." 

"Technically, I'm a genius," Spencer replied, "and I don't think you are." 

Loki snorted, but he didn't argue against Spencer's words. 

"I couldn't have disappeared you," he said, his voice quiet and sincere. "You were so impulsive, running out after me, even though you knew I was _something else_. Your soul shone so brightly, so curiously... I could see how eager you are to protect other people, to do good things. Snuffing out a light like yours... I could never do that." 

"So, feed off of my bright soul," Spencer insisted, matching his tone to Loki's in volume. "Let's get you back to full strength so we can go see what Sam and Dean are up to." 

"Are you worried about them?" Loki asked. 

Without hesitation, Spencer nodded. "I've worried about Sam since Jessica was killed," he said. Spencer sighed and gestured vaguely with his hands. "We haven't seen each other in a long time, but we keep in touch---more or less---and every time he goes radio silent... I have a hard time with hyperbole, because it seems ridiculous, but the most accurate description I can give is to say it feels like a rock is in my heart, when I know he's in serious danger. When he jumped into the Cage... it took Dean weeks to sober up enough to tell me what happened. That whole time, all I knew was that the world didn't end. And then, he was back, without his soul, and---" 

"Wait, what?" Loki interrupted. 

"Sam was above ground, without his soul," Spencer replied. 

"And his soul... was still in Hell?" Loki asked. Upon seeing Spencer's nod, as that was what Dean had told him and what Sam had confirmed when they talked after he was reunited with his soul, Loki groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "For fuck's sake... what did Dean do?" 

"I think... it was another angel that pulled him out---or tried to," Spencer said. "Their friend? Castiel, I think his name is?" 

Loki sighed and nodded. He looked wearier, just by hearing some of what had happened to the Winchesters in his absence. "Did he lose his mind when he got it back?" he asked. "Is he... intact?" 

"I think... for a little while, he was okay, and then... it got worse," Spencer replied. "We didn't get to talk too much then. Something called... leviathans? Yes, that's it, they were out then, and---" 

"What the hell happened when I died?!" Loki shouted, interrupting Spencer's response. "Who let those pirahnas out?!" 

"I don't know," Spencer said. "Like I said, we didn't talk much then. Between him being back and the new bad guy... he just said he didn't want to put me on their radar." 

"But he's sane now?" Loki asked. 

"As sane as any hunter, I guess," Spencer said. 

Loki snorted. Then, he laughed. 

"Good point, kiddo," he agreed. "What else do you know?" 

"Um... not much. Sam thought Dean was dead for a while. He actually came to visit then, just for a couple days, but it was still good to see him. He was heading off to Texas after that," Spencer said. "And... then Dean was back. They... they had a prophet. I'm not sure what exactly was going on, but... it sounded like demon stuff. It's been a while since we last talked." 

"Awesome," Loki said, sighing and relaxing back into the couch. "But, at least we know Heaven is Metatron's fault." 

"Sam wouldn't---" 

"I wonder why no one's flipped the emergency switch," Loki mused. He turned his head, letting his gaze drift to one of the uncovered windows. "There's one in each dimension. Flip it, things get reset, doors get re-opened." 

"Really?" 

Loki nodded. "God designed the world to work this way. Hell and Heaven---and Purgatory---are important, or else all the souls of dead people just... stay here. In the Veil, but still. Here. Or in the Empty. And then they really gum things up." 

"Oh." 

"Maybe Metatron just really wants to hurt everyone," Loki said, still not talking directly to Spencer. He sounded more like he was putting his voice to ideas, thinking things through, than he was engaging Spencer in conversation. "Maybe he just wanted to stick it to the angels that wanted to pick his brain for all the information God shared with him. Maybe he's broken the emergency switch. I wish I knew for sure." 

"Do you know where they are?" Spencer asked. 

Loki nodded. "Home base is in or around Lebanon, Kansas," he replied. "If something big was happening, they'd probably go back there to regroup." 

"How---" 

"I just do," Loki said. "Let's call it a hunch." 

Spencer knew there was more to it than that, judging by the way Loki lowered his gaze, but he decided to leave it. Pushing a human person to reveal a truth they weren't ready to face was difficult enough---and could be harmful to the person---and he wasn't sure he wanted to go toe-to-toe with a god over a detail that was probably less important than the bigger picture, even if he was mostly certain that Loki wouldn't hurt him. Getting Loki better was important, getting to the Winchesters and finding out what happened (and how to fix it) was important; the rest, Spencer believed, would come in time. 

"You and Sam... just friends?" Loki asked. 

Startled by the question, Spencer blinked at the deity sitting on his couch. "What?" 

"You heard me." 

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I... yes. Just friends." 

"Excellent. So I still have a shot." 

"With me or with Sam?" Spencer asked. 

Loki grinned. "Why not both?" he asked, chuckling when he saw Spencer's face flush. "Didn't you like the image I send you? I thought it would appeal to your curious nature." 

"One man's anatomy isn't all that different from---" 

"Not _that_ curiosity," Loki interrupted. "I mean... how does it feel to be sandwiched between two people? Are six hands better than four? What's it like to kiss one person and then another and then watch them kiss, too?" 

"Stop!" 

Loki's grin stretched and grew. "Looking a little flushed there, pretty Penny." 

"He's my friend," Spencer said, trying to scowl at the god who was giving him a look that was both amused and pervy. "My oldest friend, really. And you... you... look, if you two have history, fine. Just don't drag me into it." 

"Me what?" Loki asked. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. He'd firmly pushed that image Loki planted in his mind to a dark corner---one similar to the corner where he tried to tuck bad cases---and he'd done everything he could to not consider it again. Not because he didn't find either of them aesthetically pleasing, but more because he considered them both friends and it always felt like a betrayal when physical attraction sprung from a relationship that was supposed to be platonic. 

"You nothing," Spencer said quietly. 

Loki leaned towards him. "You shouldn't lie to a god. Even a barely-charged one." 

"I am not lying," Spencer said. 

He reached out---rather bravely, he thought---and pressed his hand to Loki's chest in an attempt to put some room between them again. Loki's frown was barely visible, but Spencer saw it; he pulled his hand away quickly. Before it could return to him, to his side, Loki caught it in one of his. 

"You can touch me," Loki said. "It's not intrusive. If it makes you uncomfortable, fine, but I welcome touch from the ones I'm attracted to." 

"Me?" 

"You're one of the ones, yep, yep, pretty Penny." 

Spencer could feel Loki's warm skin and it didn't bother him. Touching other people (or being touched by other people) usually set his nerves on edge; only his team could get regularly close to him, their connection forged by time and danger and the act of having each other's backs. Sam---and Loki, Spencer was realising---could get close, too, without adverse reactions (with positive reactions) on Spencer's part. 

After some contemplation---and some honest (but silent) realisations---Loki's simple contact set his stomach fluttering and his cheeks flushing. He wanted to believe he could have what Loki was offering, if he was interpreting the offer correctly; he wanted to believe it could grow and endure. 

He wanted to believe he could be lucky. 

"Whatever you're thinking... whatever you're afraid of..." Loki whispered, trailing off as he squeezed Spencer's hand. 

"I'm thinking the people that get too close to me end up hurt or dead," Spencer admitted. 

"And closing yourself off is a better alternative?" Loki asked. 

Spencer shrugged. "Keeps them safe." 

"And I thought you were a genius," Loki said. He snorted. "And I thought I was gun-shy. But you... damn." 

"Is that why you and Sam never..." 

"No, we never---" he trailed off to give his eyebrows a waggle "---because I made his life pretty miserable." 

"So, I'm a consolation---" 

"No!" Loki exclaimed. "No," he said in a softer voice. "Firstly, because you're worth something better than that, and secondly, because even I'm not that much of an ass." 

Smiling, Spencer nodded and looked down at their hands. 

"I... I don't know what to say," Spencer said quietly. 

"Don't say anything then," Loki advised. "But don't close yourself off to the possibility, okay?" 

He nodded again. He was surprised by the feeling of lips being pressed into his hairline, but he didn't flinch away from the contact. Instead, he squeezed Loki's hand. 

"Good. And keep thinking those pretty thoughts, Penny," Loki added, his voice closer to Spencer's ear. "They're like little prayers, and they come in loud and clear." 

Spencer laughed a little. "I'll see what I can do," he murmured. 

"Good." 

"If." 

Loki snorted. "Of course. What is it, kid?" 

Lifting his head, Spencer looked directly into Loki's eyes. "If you take some energy from my soul," he said. 

The surprise on Loki's face registered strongly in a slack mouth and raised eyebrows before he grinned and started to laugh. 

"I should have been prepared for that," he said before completely dissolving into giggles. "Every time I think I have you pegged..." he trailed off and wheezed. "Hoo, boy." 

Spencer smiled. "Fair trade?" 

"Not even close," Loki replied. "But, I'll consider it." 

"When?" 

Loki's gaze flickered away from Spencer's for a moment. When he looked back up, he wasn't smiling anymore. He seemed serious, the weight of what Spencer was asking pushing the good humour away. 

"Give me a couple of hours," Loki said. 

Spencer nodded. "Another movie then? Or is multitasking something you can't do?" 

Loki snorted. "Kid, there's _almost_ nothing I can't do. Put one on, and make it funny."


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Loki was ready to try taking some power from Spencer's soul, Spencer was nearly vibrating with anxious energy. He'd felt like all the time he spent waiting was wasted. He wanted to act; he wanted to help his friends. Getting Loki's strength up was the first step towards those goals, and he was eager to try to help the god recover that strength. 

"All right," Loki said, after a dramatic sigh. "I guess it would be a dumb question to ask if you're having second thoughts."

Spencer smiled. "There's no such thing as dumb questions."

The anxiety on Loki's face disappeared temporarily; a smirk flickered across his mouth before his concern reappeared. He stretched, rolling his head from side to side, and then he patted his thighs once before bringing his hands together and rubbing them.

"This could hurt---will hurt---a lot," Loki said. "I don't like the idea of hurting you. "

Spencer shifted on the couch. He didn't like the idea of being hurt, either, but he also didn't like the idea of Loki being weak any longer then he had to be. The good outweighed the bad; enduring a little pain so that Loki could heal and be stronger was a small price to pay in his mind. 

It wasn't like he was a stranger to pain, anyway.

He turned towards Loki. "Let's do it," he said. "I want to get this started. I want to start doing something."

"Miss the boys that much?" Loki asked, a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Maybe that isn't what we should focus on," he said. "Maybe we should be focusing on what's important, instead?"

"That's not a denial," Loki said, still teasing.

"Loki..." 

"I'm not judging," he said. "The boys wear flannel well. If you're into that sort of thing."

Resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture, Spencer looked across the room, out through the window. Any time he thought about Sam, in a non-platonic way, it felt like treason against their friendship. Loki was pushing Spencer towards those thoughts and towards that feeling, though he didn't mean anything bad by it; if anything, Spencer was sure that Loki believed something positive could come from an admission of those thoughts and feelings. But, he wasn't sure what he believed. 

"What has to happen, to do this?" Spencer asked. 

As if amused by Spencer's change of subject, Loki smirked again. "I get to put my hands on you---and in you," he said, "and I'll touch your soul."

"And that powers you up?" Spencer asked.

Loki nodded. "There's a transfer of energy I do, but explaining it involves equations and language I don't even think your brain could wrap around."

"Really?" Spencer asked, his eyes widening. "I can understand complicated mech---"

Raising his hand, Loki interrupted. "Kiddo, I know you're not an idiot. But, some of this is just... instinct. Hard-wired into whatever sort of brain I've got, thanks to a jackass programmer who never had to explain his coding to anyone."

Spencer smiled a little. "All right. I wish you could explain it, though."

"Well... look, a soul is like a nuclear reactor," Loki said. "When I pass through your body into the heart of your soul, it's like my vessel turns into a converter for that power."

Spencer nodded. He appreciated the attempt, and it brought him a little closer to understanding how the process would work. He wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of Loki putting his hands in his body as the transfer of energy required but he knew that there were powers and magics that allowed for transcending dimensions and a multitude of possibilities with those abilities. 

Loki's confidence faded. He reached out and put his hand on Spencer's knee. His eyes grew large and---if Spencer was reading the expression correctly---fond. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "I won't be mad if you change your mind."

Spencer dared to return the gesture, putting his hand over Loki's and squeezing. "I'm not changing my mind," he said. "You need this."

"We need this," Loki said, "you mean to say." 

Spencer shook his head. "It would make things easier, yeah, but... this is for you."

As Loki looked at him, Spencer tried to project his concerns for Loki's well-being in what he thought would be a prayer for the trickster. Something of his thoughts must have been discerned, because Loki's mask seemed to melt into _someone else_ as he whispered, "I… well, wow, pretty Penny. I'm a little speechless."

His words made Spencer smile, which in turn loosened some of that anxious tension that had taken residence up in his stomach. 

What's so funny?" Loki asked.

His next words made Spencer laugh. 

"You're speechless," Spencer said, still laughing. "I never thought I'd see the day where Loki has nothing to say on a particular subject." 

"Yeah, yeah... laugh it up," Loki said. 

"I will," Spencer said, as his laughter faded, leaving a grin on his face. 

"You're cute when you laugh," Loki said.

Spencer's grin didn't disappear when his cheeks flushed a bright pink. He felt a little embarrassed, but there was also a little something akin to boldness thrumming through his nerves---a product of being in the presence of Loki's bold personality, most likely. 

"I thought I was cute all the time," Spencer said.

Loki grinned at him. "You are," he agreed.

Spencer's grin shrunk into a smaller smile. He squeezed Loki's hand. "Well, now that that's settled," he said, "let's get this show on the road."

Loki closed his eyes for a moment. When he re-opened them, he nodded.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Loki said. "You will be more comfortable recovering, lying down."

Spencer stood after Loki did, and he followed Loki to the bedroom with little hesitation. They'd been in the room together before so Spencer wasn't nervous; but, he couldn't deny that there was something more potent about this situation than the one from the previous night.

When Loki sat down on the bed, he patted the spot next to him. Spencer nodded and joined him. He let Loki maneuver him into a supine position, and he managed to not fidget too much through the process. Once he was settled, Loki smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

"For what it's worth, thank you," Loki said.

Spencer smiled. "You're welcome," he replied.

Loki sighed. "I hope you're still smiling when this is all over," he said.

"Stop procrastinating," Spencer said.

With a nod, Loki leaned forward and brushed his hand over Spencer's eyes. Spencer closed his eyes as Loki completed the gesture. He took in a deep breath. Loki responded by rubbing and squeezing Spencer's shoulder as he exhaled.

"Take another deep breath," Loki said, "and try to concentrate on something that makes you happy. Or, something you find distracting."

Sensing that Loki could use a distraction as well, Spencer said, "I'll think about you and that puppy in bed."

"Thinking about me and Samoose in bed?" Loki asked. "You better put yourself in there with us."

Spencer chuckled, in spite of his reservations on the subject of the three of them together. 

Loki's hand smoothed down his arm, then back up to his shoulder, before moving across his chest and settling over his heart. He murmured quiet words, about Spencer breathing steadily and remaining still, and then the air around them crackled and seemed to shift although Spencer didn't know what was shifting or changing.

Before he could process the change, pain unlike anything Spencer had ever experienced took up residence in his chest. He bit back what he was sure would have been a scream, relying on all his training and all of his experience in dealing with pain, and he tried to keep breathing through it. He could hear his breath being drawn in through his nose and pushed out through his teeth, and he could hear a whimper above him; it was Loki making the noise, as if he, too, were experiencing the same pain.

"Easy," Loki whispered. "Almost done."

"Take all that you need," Spencer whispered, trying not to whine as he spoke. "Take what you need to be _you_ again."

"You're a fool---"

"I prefer generous," Spencer groaned. 

"I'm sure there's a line somewhere about those two things being the same," Loki said. 

Spencer would've laughed, but the pain was too great. A weak chuckle was all that could escape his chest as Loki fed upon his soul. Loki's other hand came up and caressed his cheek.

"Almost done, Penny," Loki said. "Hang on." 

The pain lasted what felt like another few minutes, but Spencer realized it was probably only a few seconds. When it was over, Loki's hand was on Spencer's chest, stroking and attempting to soothe; it felt good, and Spencer had to resist the urge to press up into the touch. He exhaled slowly, quietly, and opened his eyes.

He would have gasped, but he didn't have the energy to do so. Loki appeared to be glowing; a golden light was all around him, seemingly coming from inside of him. He thought he saw the shadow of something growing from behind Loki, but it was gone as soon as he blinked. 

As his eyes adjusted, the light faded. Loki was smiling; it wasn't his smirk or his usual grin, but it was warmer. He leaned down, over Spencer, and pressed his lips to Spencer's cheek.

"Thank you," Loki whispered. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Spencer smiled. He put his hand on Loki's knee and squeezed. "I have a faint idea," he whispered back.

"Close your eyes," Loki murmured. "Rest. I'll snap up something for you to eat once you've recovered."

"Is that a good idea?" Spencer asked.

Loki shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

Spencer chuckled. "How about we play it safe and just eat what's left in the kitchen?"

With a huff, Loki said, "Fine."

Feeling weak, but also feeling something else he could not identify in his present state, Spencer curved his hand around Loki's thigh. "Stay with me," he whispered. "Just until I fall asleep?" 

"I thought you don't cuddle," Loki said.

"I never said I don't," Spencer said. "It was more like I shouldn't." 

Loki smiled. "Just let me look around the perimeter, and I'll be back," he said. He pressed another kiss to Spencer's brow, and then Gabriel slipped from his grasp. "Sleep well."

Spencer hummed his reply, too drained and too far gone to use actual words. He rubbed his cheek into his pillow, smelling cotton candy and something that reminded him of the air before a lightning storm; as a blanket was pulled up over his body he gave one final sigh, and then the darkness enveloped him.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking to discover himself wrapped up in what had to be an octopus was a new experience for Spencer. 

It took him a few minutes in his sleep-addled state to realize the appendages wrapped around his body were arms and a leg, and not tentacles. Though, with Loki, it could have been an actual octopus so Spencer cut himself some slack for not immediately figuring out what was going on around him. 

Loki snuffled and tucked his face into Spencer's neck. When Spencer tried to reach for his phone---which he assumed would be on his bedside table---Loki moaned and tightened his grip on Spencer's body. 

Spencer managed to ease away long enough to learn that his phone was not in the room. As he sighed and flopped back onto the mattress, Loki snuggled even closer. 

"Stop moving," he complained. 

Spencer smiled as he rubbed his eyes. "I thought gods didn't need sleep," he said. "Or is the mythology wrong?" 

"M'not sleeping," Loki said. 

Spencer let loose a sleepy chuckle. "Right," he mumbled. 

Loki's hand moved from Spencer's hip to his chest. "You're a good snuggler," he said. "I can't believe we've never done this before." 

Spencer laughed again. "When would we have done this before? When I'm on a case with the team? When you're punishing your victims?" 

"Yes! Exactly then!" Loki said. He patted Spencer's chest. "I'm sure your guard dog could have let you out of his sight for a little while." 

"Or, you could have put him in a time loop to distract him while we did this," Spencer said. 

Loki sucked in a sharp breath. "So, Samshine told you about that?" 

"He may have mentioned something about a trickster god and a time loop and Dean dying several hundred times," Spencer said, his voice turning quiet as he recalled Sam's story. 

With a sigh, Loki lifted his head and looked at Spencer. There wasn't necessarily regret, as far as Spencer could tell, but there was definitely no joy written in Loki's features. Spencer had known about Sam's encounters with a trickster; despite their current situation, he'd spent a few minutes wondering why Loki had antagonised Sam in that way. He didn't want to push, but at the mention of that particular encounter Spencer was curious---to know Loki's reasons for it and to see if he could entice Loki into discussing it. 

"I didn't do it to be mean," Loki said. "Is that what Sam thinks?" 

Spencer shook his head. "I don't know what Sam thinks about it anymore," he said. "But, it was upsetting at the time." 

"A lot of things were upsetting at that time," Loki said, as he rolled away from Spencer and settled on his back. 

"I'm not asking you to talk about it," Spencer said. 

"There's better pillow-talk to be had," Loki said. 

Spencer snorted. He reached up with both hands, once they were free, and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't sure he was awake enough for Loki's level of pillow talk. He also wasn't sure that Loki would give him a choice in their next conversation topic. 

"I need coffee," Spencer said. "And you probably need sugar of some kind." 

Loki turned his head and smiled. He reach across the brief gap between them and brushed his thumb along Spencer's chin. 

"I'd take some sugar from your lips, pretty Penny," Loki said before he winked. 

Spencer laughed, a rough, sleepy sound, and he rolled away from Loki and his fingers. 

"C'mon," he said, "let's get up." 

"Whyyyyy?" Loki whined. 

"The sooner you get up, the sooner we can plan, the sooner we can hit the road," Spencer replied. 

"We can plan right here," Loki insisted. He waggled his eyebrows and patted the mattress. "Come closer and I'll show you my new plan." 

Spencer, his laughter trailing into a little chuckle, pushed himself to his feet. He turned around and looked at Loki, who was stretched out and lounging in the spot Spencer had vacated. 

"C'mon, lazy bones," he said. "The sooner we can hit the road, the sooner we can stop for doughnuts." 

"The sooner, the sooner, the sooner," Loki grumbled. "How about we focus on the here and now?" 

"All right, how about… How about we focus on what happens if Metatron catches up with us?" 

Loki scowled. "Ruin my fun," he muttered. He rubbed his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. "One of these days, I'm going to get you to have fun. No work, no worries... just fun." 

"I have a feeling your version of fun involves the bed and fewer clothes," Spencer said as he stretched and moved to the door for his bathrobe which was hanging on a hook there. He shrugged into the soft and fuzzy garment and open the door. "I'll get started on breakfast. You do… whatever it is you want to do." 

Any irritation Loki had been expressing disappeared as a mischievous grin brightened his face. 

"Not that," Spencer said quickly. "Not in my bed." 

Loki's laughter followed him as he headed towards the kitchen. 

Spencer meandered, puttering around the kitchen as he put together a small breakfast. He made coffee on the stove while bread toasted in his oven, and as he waited for those things to be finished, he took a few minutes and looked outside the windows nearby. 

The weather was calm. The sun was just starting its ascent. It didn't look like there would be a cloud in the sky for at least a few hours. Spencer hoped the weather would hold out until they made some progress in their journey towards where ever Sam and Dean were located, if that was going to be there next move. 

When Loki joined him, he didn't say anything. He moved into Spencer's personal space; he wrapped his arms around Spencer's waist and tucked his face into the space between Spencer's shoulder blades. After letting loose a soft moan, he rubbed his face against Spencer's robe. 

"Are you all right?" Spencer asked. "How are you healing?" 

Loki nodded. "M'fine. Just waking up," he mumbled. 

"Reluctantly," Spencer added. 

"Whatever," Loki grunted. 

Spencer smiled and patted Loki's hands. "Take your time," he said. "Takes me a while to fully wake up, too." 

After a yawn, Loki moved away. He sat at the table and folded his arms up on it before placing his head down upon them. He accepted the mug of coffee with a whispered thanks, and after Spencer had doctored his, he proceeded to pour most of the sugar from the bowl on the table into his drink. As Spencer munched on his toast, Loki sipped his coffee and watch him eat. 

"All right, so what do you think we should do first?" Spencer asked after he had eaten and drank a bit of his coffee. 

Loki snorted. "Why are you asking me?" 

"As an all-powerful being, I thought you might have some suggestions," Spencer replied. 

"Hit me with your plan," Loki said. 

Spencer nodded. He moved to the table and took the chair next to Loki. After settling, he spoke. "Well, for starters, we should probably get to Sam and Dean," he said. "At least to make sure they're all right. But, I suspect they might need our help---or, rather, yours, and if I can get you there undetected by this Metatron character, then that'll be my role in this whole mess." 

"Don't sell yourself short, kiddo," Loki said. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not a hunter," he reminded him. "I am an FBI agent, remember? I don't have the required skill set." 

With a snort, Loki put his hand on Spencer's arm. "You have a brain that works really well, and you were taught by a Winchester. You've got more game than you think." 

Spencer shrugged. He may have known about ghosts and demons, but he suspected a being who could cast the angels out of Heaven was beyond his scope. He was mostly concerned with ensuring Sam's (and Dean's) safety; getting Loki to them was the best way, he thought, to satisfy that worry. He accepted that this was his role in this event. He just wanted the world to be all right. 

"I'm still not a hunter," he said. 

Loki smiled. "You sure about that? You sure hunt a lot of bad guys." 

"Bad people," he said. "And some who are just mixed up, or in bad situations." 

"Don't make excuses," Loki said. "You do hunt monsters. And with a _real_ badge, to boot." 

Thinking of all the aliases that Sam must have used over the years, some of them for law enforcement, Spencer smiled, too. He knew, from Sam's stories, how hunters worked. He knew that it was easier for many of them to risk getting caught impersonating an officer than to sit on the outside and try to work from there. He wondered how many agents and officers knew about the supernatural world; he wondered if they were able to do both jobs but thought there would be too many conflicts to be effective at either occupation. 

"Not the same," Spencer said, "but I do get your point. There are some skills in common." 

"Sure there are. And, at this point, I think it's safe to say it's all hands on deck right now, kiddo." 

As much as he wanted to disagree, Spencer could not. Loki made a good point. Anyone who knew anything should be getting involved; and, unfortunately, Spencer knew that meant him too. 

Realising that point, Spencer also realised another problem in his plan: he would have to get more time off, which meant he would have to talk with his team. 

Loki seem to sense something was wrong. He squeezed Spencer's arm. "What was that thought?" he asked. 

Spencer shook his head. "Nothing." 

"Liar." 

After a sigh, Spencer said, "I can't just leave without telling my team something. If I disappear, they'll come looking for me. And," he waved around the kitchen, where protective sigils were written on the walls and windows, "I can't let them see this." 

Loki looked around. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't go over well," he said. "We could clean it before we leave." 

"They'd still look for me," Spencer said. 

"At least they wouldn't think you were abducted by devil worshipers," Loki said. 

Imagining his team witnessing the artwork they'd scrawled on the walls, Spencer had to smother the urge to laugh. He tucked his face into his coffee mug; after a sip of the cooling liquid, he stood up and sought a book from the living room. 

He put the atlas, a map of American highways, down on the table between where he was sitting and where Loki was sitting. He slipped through the pages until he got to the section on Kansas. Then, he looked at Loki. 

"Where are they again?" Spencer asked. 

Loki look down at the maps. After a moment, he pointed. The town underneath his finger was Lebanon. 

"You're sure?" 

Loki nodded. "There's a facility… I had a feeling they'd end up there at some point." 

"And you know they're there now?" Spencer asked. "How?" 

Shrugging, Loki said, "A feeling." 

"A feeling," Spencer echoed. 

Nodding again, Loki said, "Yes, a feeling." 

"I'm going to need more than that," Spencer said. 

Loki sighed. Then, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Fine. It's a family thing," he said. "Why do you think trouble finds those two knuckleheads so often? It's not luck. It's blood. The whole apocalypse happened because of their blood. Because of who they are." 

Spencer leaned forward. He never knew when Loki was going to give him a large truth, he never knew when Loki was going to follow through, but he was always eager to learn more from the god-like being. 

"They're vessels," Spencer said. "That's what you mean, right?" 

"Sure, yeah, but why are they vessels?" Loki said in reply. "It's not their good looks." 

"It's their blood," he said. "Like… their genetics?" 

"Bingo!" 

"So… trouble finds them because it's in their genes?" Spencer asked. 

Loki leaned back in his chair. "It finds them because it's a family thing," he said. "And it's also why they are in Lebanon." 

"I don't know if I understand," Spencer said. "Do you mean… an inheritance?" 

Loki smiled. "Bingo, again!" He leaned back further, his chair tipping back on two legs. "It's the clubhouse for a secret society. Their grandfather was a member. They should have found it by now." 

"How do you know they should have found it?" Spencer asked. 

"I know a lot of things," Loki replied. 

As frustrating as it was to receive yet another vague answer, Spencer found himself smiling. Loki was rarely humble, and something about that was both soothing and amusing. 

"Time is fluid, kiddo," Loki said. "You look at the table and you see a table, maybe the wood it's made of, but I can see the trees it was and I can also see the kindling it will be in the future." 

"That's amazing," Spencer murmured. 

"And, when I look at you, I see---" 

Spencer interjected. "I don't need to know," he said quickly. 

Loki smirked. "You sure you don't _want_ to know?" 

Instead of answering the question, Spencer look down at the map. He flipped the pages, finding their current location and doing some quick mental math; when he calculated the distance they would have to travel, he also calculated the time it would take to reach their destination. 

It would be at least a couple days' worth of driving---if they were lucky. 

"It looks like we are approximately one thousand, two hundred, and fifty-four miles away," Spencer said. "So that's probably about twenty hours of driving." 

Loki's response wasn't about the drive; instead, he chuckled and settled his chair back on its four legs. "So you do wanna know," he said, in a voice thick with mirth. "I could tell you." 

"Would you focus, please?" Spencer muttered. 

"Ugh," Loki muttered back. "Fine, fine. Thirteen hundred miles. Are we taking your car?" 

"Not if I don't tell my team where we're going," Spencer replied. 

"Do you think you should?" 

Spencer sighed as he pondered his options. If he told his team he had to go help family, they would assume it was his mother in some sort of trouble and that could provoke them to ask questions or to offer their own help. If he told his team he had to go help a friend, he suspected they would accept it---but he also suspected that they would snoop into his private life until they figured out who he was helping and where he was going. If he told his team nothing, he was fairly certain they would move heaven and hell to find him again. Neither of those options was optimal; but, he knew he would have to tell them something. 

"Damned if you do damned if you don't, huh?" Loki asked. 

Spencer nodded. "I haven't gotten that far, yet. What do you think I should do?" 

"Telling them something is better than telling them nothing," he said. "You don't wanna end up on a milk carton." 

With a snort, Spencer nodded again. "I hate lying to them. They're family, even if they don't know everything about me." 

"Family… can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." 

Spencer looked up in time to see Loki hide a solemn expression under a small smirk. He wondered what had happened; he wondered about Loki's history with his own family. Loki had only mentioned small bits of information pertaining to his family, and while that was more than Spencer ever knew before, he was still curious. 

"Are you still close with your family?" Spencer asked. 

Loki frowned. "Not so much," he said. "Too much has happened." 

"What if you could fix things?" Spencer asked. 

Loki's frown turned into one of his sharper smirks, one of the expressions he used when he was feeling darker emotions, and he kept his gaze averted from Spencer. 

"I don't know if that's possible anymore," he said. "But, right now, we need to focus on getting them---the angels, I mean---back up into Heaven. That's the prize we need to keep our eyes on, kiddo." 

There was something going on that Spencer was having trouble putting together. Loki was hiding something; he was probably hiding a lot of things, but Spencer had a feeling he was hiding something directly related to the angels' fall. He wasn't sure what it was, he just knew it had to do with recent events. 

If Loki were less inscrutable, he felt it wouldn't be such a hard puzzle to solve. 

"All right," Loki said, shaking Spencer from his thoughts. "So, you need to talk to someone on your team, and we need to pack up. And then, we need to go." 

"We'll leave tomorrow," Spencer agreed. 

He reached for his phone, and stood up from the table. After an excuse about needing some air, he left the kitchen and headed to the front door. 

Out on the porch, Spencer impulsively decided to call Rossi first. He didn't have much standing with their current section chief; he trusted Rossi to have his back if Cruz wasn't immediately amenable to the idea of Spencer taking more time away from the office. 

Rossi had questions and Spencer was able to navigate them easily with assurances that he was fine and that his mother was fine. He used the excuse of a college friend needing his help; it was close enough to the truth that it didn't feel (or sound) like a lie. 

"Stay safe, Reid," Rossi said before ending the call. "And call us if you need anything. I'll smooth things over with Cruz after you talk to him." 

His next call was to the team's section chief. Cruz wasn't pleased, but he understood the need to be there when a friend needed help and he couldn't argue against Spencer's usual work ethic or his supposed concern of burnout. In the end, he told Spencer to take another week---but to keep him posted if anything changed. 

When Spencer ended the call, he turned around and found Loki standing in the doorway. Spencer rolled his eyes; Loki grinned. 

"How's your guard dog?" Loki asked. 

Spencer shrugged. "I didn't talk to Morgan," he replied. "I called Rossi, instead." 

"Smart cookie." 

With a smile, Spencer nodded. "He seemed like the best bet. As long as the others don't worry too much, it'll be fine, I think." 

"All that muss for so little fuss... now what?" Loki asked. 

"I'll have to prep the cabin to be closed," Spencer said. "And I'll have to pack. And we should decide our route." 

Loki snorted. "Like you haven't already mapped it out in your head," he commented. "C'mon, let's have more coffee and do something relaxing for a few minutes." 

"What do you have in mind?" Spencer asked. 

When Loki beckoned him closer, Spencer took two shuffling steps towards him. Loki smiled; he took two steps himself, so he was in Spencer's personal space. Before Spencer could realise what he was doing, Loki leaned up and pressed his lips to Spencer's in a quick kiss. 

Spencer gasped. He didn't pull away, and it was Loki who ended the kiss. When they separated, Spencer licked his lips before he could suppress the impulse; he tasted sugary sweetness and smiled at how fitting that was. 

"That was nice," Loki said. 

Spencer nodded. Then, he rubbed his chin and tucked both hands into his robe's pockets. 

"Why?" 

Loki rolled his eyes. "Puh-lease. I've wanted to do that for years," he said. "Now, don't freak out and follow me inside. Nothing else is gonna happen unless you want it to. If you'd like, we can watch the show with the crazy guy in the blue phone booth." 

"Police box," Spencer corrected, his voice a low and pleased murmur. 

"Sure, that, too," Loki agreed. 

"We do eventually have to---" 

"Pack and plan," Loki interrupted, as he tugged Spencer into the cabin. "I know. But, first, we're gonna relax." 

"Why?" 

"You asked that already." 

Spencer snorted. "Different context, so different question. Sue me, I'm curious." 

He let himself be taken into the sitting area and pushed onto the sofa. He didn't feel weak from the soul-draining, not really, but he wouldn't deny that sinking down into the furniture's cushions felt good. When Loki joined him, settling in at his side, he realised there was a small spread of coffee and bagels and jam on the coffee table. He smiled and looked to Loki. 

"I feel spoiled," he said. 

"Well, you did something few humans ever offer to do," Loki said in response. "So, I'm feeling... generous." 

Spencer smirked. "Or foolish?" 

Loki snorted. "I'm sure there's a line somewhere about those two things being the same," he said, repeating his words from the previous night. 

"Probably," Spencer agreed. 

"So, marmalade or---" 

"Raspberry jam, please," Spencer said. "And we're starting with the original series." 

Loki grinned before he leaned forward and started fixing their bagels to their liking. "Fine with me, Penny," he said. "I've never seen the older episodes." 

Spencer squawked. Loki laughed.


End file.
